WARNING: This is a far cry from my typical post. Today, I'm going to let you into my life a little, let you know more about the woman behind the blog. Let you in on some of the things that plague this ole' mind of mine, let's call it venting. So, if you're here to read a post strictly about uncluttering your home or planner printables, you may want to exit stage left.
Thanks for visiting.
It seems as though lately my fuse has been quite short when it comes to certain subjects, one subject in particular that has been consistently sending me over the edge is my looks.
For instance, recently someone pointed to my stomach and said, “I remember when that was tighter.” That comment was quickly followed by the fake question, “You haven’t been taking care of yourself, have you?" On another day, a co-worker stated to me, 'I figured you would wear the shirt that says, "Are You Loaded" because you want to know if they have a lot of money." Basically inferring that I look like a gold-digger. Discussing the exchange with another co-worker she said, "Just take it as a compliment because gold-diggers are normally pretty." Um... so yeah... thankfully in both cases I kept my cool.
One would think that I would be used to hearing statements such as these since I dabbled in modeling as a young woman. Being an African American woman, I have been blessed with fuller hips and a round bottom. The amount of times these ears have heard the words “needs to diet, lose the booty, too thick, or she cant’ fit the sample size” is immeasurable. And I can not tell you the amount of times it was assumed that I only wanted the guys that drove nice cars or that could buy me things. But this time it was different, the statements stood out… why? Let me give you some backstory…
Since I can remember, I have always been the pretty face. Some of you may be thinking, “Awe poor thing, that’s such a terrible problem to have. I wouldn’t mind having that problem.” When I was a teenager and on into my twenties I didn’t see it as a problem either. Honestly, there were times I enjoyed the attention that came along with being the pretty face, which is why I dabbled in modeling.
However, in playing out my role as “the pretty face” I discovered that having this face brought a lot of hatred and/or envy my way. Wanting everyone to be comfortable and to have “genuine friends,” I also fell into the role of being a people pleaser. How so? As I interacted with people, I found that if I wanted to be accepted there was a limit to how pretty I could be but at the same time there was a level of expectation for how pretty I should be. Not wanting to feel left out or have anyone hate me I fit myself in everyone else’s box for me. I found that most did not care to truly know more about me than what they saw staring back at them. I found that they often assumed there was no depth to me or that I was conceited because of how I looked. I found that they had no real interest in what I thought, felt, or wanted; I was there to add some pretty to the room. So I gave them what they wanted, a measured level of pretty and someone to conform to their wishes and listen to their demands.
All of this has led to me being a woman that is hidden behind the face that everyone wants to see and not hear. A woman that has an uncanny ability to suppress her feelings so much so that many people think she has none.
Which takes me back to my opening statements… as the years have rolled by things have not changed much, I am still known as the pretty face. I am still expected to stay within this certain box of pretty. I have people that I love dearly that after introducing me to someone new say “Isn’t she pretty?” In the back of mind I think, is that all you recognize me for? In the past three years have I not shown that there is more to me? Am I not kind? Sweet? Caring? Loving? Anything… anything other than pretty? Do they feel that its something that I wish to hear? Or have I been in my box so long that I haven’t allowed anyone to see that there’s more to me?
As I contemplate the answer to my own questions, I am reminded of the words to Beyonce’s song Pretty Hurts. In that song she sings:
Ain’t got no doctor or pill that can take the pain away
The pains inside and nobody frees you from your body
It’s the soul, it’s the soul that needs surgery
It’s my soul that needs surgery
Plastic smiles and denial can only take you so far
Then you break when the fake façade leaves you in the dark
You’re left with shattered mirrors and the shards of a beautiful girl
She concludes the song by twice asking the question, “Are you happy with yourself?”
As a mature woman, I answer that question for myself, in the quiet of my alone time, releasing the façade everyone else desires to see and being real with myself freed from the confines of my box, my answer is a firm no.
It’s a no not because I am shallow and have relied on my looks to get by. Not because I have no other interests beyond beauty. It’s a no because I have allowed myself to be put in a box. It’s a no because I felt that I needed to please others and seek their acceptance to be happy. It’s because I lacked the confidence to stand on my own and freely show everyone the woman that I really am. It’s because I’ve allowed them to dim my light…
This is not the end of my journey; I’m just the beginning. I am determined to emerge a strong woman showing that my happiness starts from within and others that are allowed to stay in my life can only enhance that happiness.
In this slideshow you will see a few modeling pics but more importantly you see who I am as a woman. You will see that I love to laugh, read, and be with family and friends. You will see the woman that the majority choose to ignore, instead choosing to reduce the sum of me to my looks.